Be Fruitful and Multiply

This is our 3rd spring in this garden - the longest I've ever "owned" a garden. (Don't ever let a garden hear anything about that ownership thing. It'll show you who is boss real quick.) And this spring, I'm happy to see things flourishing in a different way than ever before. They are growing bigger and filling in their space. Some plants, like the purple coneflowers (Echinacea purpurea) and cutleaf (or Engelmann's) daisy have seeded out and are growing all around the garden. This is what I've been waiting for.

Purple coneflower just coming into bloom in the "woodland" garden. Everything else, from cutleaf daisy (foreground in right corner) to Texas betony, ruellia, sedge, and violets are growing gangbusters.

In Wisconsin, I always heard the adage: sleep, creep, then leap. New plants slept the first year, settling themselves in. They grew at a creep the second year, just experimenting with their home. And then the third year, by golly, they lept into action after establishing healthy roots. Well, I'm not so sure if that old adage works here in Texas since our seasons are so different (any experience Texans willing to weigh in?), but I'm beginning to think so. This 3rd year is kicking some butt. Yeehaw.

The Jerusalem sage does not disappoint. These garish yellow clusters of flowers emit a real sultry smell too.


Surprise! I caught the lyre-leaf sage with a bloom or two. Not the show I was hoping for, but maybe that fourth year will be the charm.


Gulf coast penstemon is just coming into bloom. Looks great with the yellow columbine.


And the peach is in bloom too.

Palmetto State Park

I always love visiting the parks and natural areas around Central Texas. They provide a window into what can grow here and show me how things look growing naturally, together. I can stroll through the forest or prairies and see what plants associate with each other, and I find that the best gardens mimic these natural pairings with ease.

This past weekend, I ventured with some (great) friends down to Palmetto State Park near Luling and Gonzales, Texas.

This park is magnificent and a big surprise for those of us used to Ed's Plateau and Blackland Prairie.

The unique geology of the area has resulted in a relatively isolated forest of dwarf palmettos (Sabal minor). And there's a great combination of plants and wildlife there. In fact, we ventured there for the birds - it's on the Texas birding trail and boasts over 200 species in a very small area.

But the swampy flats, palmettos and Spanish moss swaying from the trees reminds me of coastal Carolina.

Red buckeyes (Aesculus pavia) were in full bloom, hanging out in the understory. Hummingbirds like these and in fact, we came across one (my first for the season) nectaring on a buckeye.

The River Trail is characterized by anacua (Ehretia anacua) or sandpaper tree. This was a very nice surprise for me, since I just planted one of these trees in my front yard. This is the very northern tip of its range. Many of the anacua were in full bloom, filled with white flowers. I couldn't quite catch their scent, but I think that may be because it was cold and windy this past weekend.

Along the Palmetto Trail, yellow irises were blooming. The yellow iris is introduced from Eurasia and Africa, but it's purty.

Apparently, the native purple iris also lives in the park, but it was not in bloom while we were there. It'd be a pretty sight to see the yellow and purple blooming together in a big stand.

One of the things I find the most fascinating about Austin is that we live on this strange convergence of ecosystems. The Blackland prairie and Edward's Plateau meet along the relatively defined line of the Balcones Fault. But just a stones throw away, you can find a swampy palmetto forest, or the Lost Pines. Tropical species reach their northern limits here and the Post Oak Savannah is not too far away.

Nice place. I definitely recommend a visit.

***

I haven't been blogging much about the yard, which is just crazy, because there are so many things in bloom right now. A perfect time of year. I hope to get to that soon. Lots to document.

Rushing to Garden

The more I learn about Felder Rushing, a gardener in Mississippi, the more I like him. Here are some choice quotes from his article today in the New York Times.

"My way of thinking right now is brown is a color, too."

"I’m not a snob, but I’m outside in my bathrobe a lot, and in the mornings I look like Jesus’ drunk brother."

"Strawberries are sexy, but they take all year and you get sweet bags of water."

I might add those sweet bags of water mostly fill the gullets of other critters, not mine...

***

Funny, Garden Rant and I were on the same exact wavelength. Full disclosure: they introduced me to Rushing in the first place with a post a while back.

Prairies at the Mueller

Pop quiz. The above image is from:

a) a Central Texas prairie
b) an urban park
c) all of the above

Well, the answer of course, is (c). This is a photo of the new prairie growing at the Mueller neighborhood, which for the uninitiated used to be our local airport. It was dismantled and is being converted into a residential neighborhood with a hospital, retail and oodles of parks. It also happens to be just around the corner from my house, and I am super excited about the one of the parks called the Southwest Greenway.


In my opinion, this is the big star of their park system. There, they are re-establishing the native Blackland Prairie ecosystems in collaboration with the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center. It's less than a year old, but some of the plants are already blooming (aided, no doubt, by a hefty watering regime this winter). So I decided to head up there with a camera and have a look.

A wide path cruises alternating between crushed granite and cement meanders through the greenbelt and will eventually loop around the entire development. There were a ton of people out walking and running when I was there.

The path takes you through large swaths of future short-grass prairie, tallgrass prairie and mixed grass prairie. A number of trees - like Texas persimmon, oaks, Eastern red cedars, huisaches, and pecans - were both moved here (as mature trees), planted here and left here from the old airport. These line the path and dot the prairies.

Along the path they have even signs for Learning, which is pretty cool in my opinion.


This sign better says what I was jabbering about in my previous post, regarding all of our yards being knit together into one big ecosystem.


There are some pretty nice formal gardens planted with natives as well, much like the Wildflower Center.


Signs in the more formal gardens show what plants are growing there, which is a great way to learn about natives that will work in the area and see what they look like (and free! and not way down Mopac!).


A crazy bank of native wildflowers, such as Indian blanket and evening primrose, growing along the path:


Check out these cool sculptures:



An allee of desert willows will be really sweet to sit under some day, full of blooms and hummingbirds.


I think this is three-awn grass mixed with bluebonnets:



This prairie scene will one day be extraordinary, with the skyline in the background (squint and you can see Austin past the prairie and over the pond).


Standing here, I was reminded of a large green sign posted on a prairie outside of Chicago we used to drive by that said "Imagine the Possibilities." They were referring to future strip malls and office parks, of course, but here, the possibilities I imagine are this young prairie in 10, 20 and 30 years. Tall prairie grasses growing deep, wildflowers swaying in the breeze, and the birds and the bees, oh yes, oh my.

Actually, another cool side note: I read somewhere that the Wildflower Center found some original little bluestem grass growing on this property. They harvested its seeds and have been propagating it for reintroduction there at Mueller. Truly native.

Now, they certainly aren't doing everything right at Mueller. On the other side of the development, near the strip malls and Interstate (where you'd expect) someone has planted vast plots of land with "wildflower mix." Inevitably, this crazy mix looks to be of California and European origin; I see this kind of mix sold all over town and people scatter it everywhere.

Here it is:



It's really fine and pretty, I suppose, but when you have such beauty native to the area, and it's planted a mere few blocks away, why not be consistent? Why NOT plant the natives?

At any rate, I'm very happy that the prairie ecosystem is growing not too far away. It's another place that animals and plants in my yard can connect with, weaving their way across our urban fabric to survive. Another bonus is that it smells really good up there right now.

***

If you're interested in visiting the Southwest Greenway, you can find it off Airport Blvd and Anchor Ln. The best way to access it is probably to park at the Mueller visitor center on Airport and follow the trail around south.

Inconspicuous

Some of the plants in our yard aren't really known for their showy flowers, but their flowers are important nonetheless. Take, for example, our native yaupon, Ilex vomitoria. These small trees and shrubs are known for the bright red berries that last all winter long - both beautiful in the brownish winter landscape and also important bird food.

I planted a few dwarf yaupons recently (Ilex vomitoria 'Nana,' I think). I've heard that the dwarfs are generally male, and they are good to have around because the females need the males to make berries (yaupons are dioecious, meaning that male and female flowers are different plants).

Our dwarves are in full bloom with tiny white flowers.

The larger varieties I have planted around that I know to be female ('Pride of Houston,' I think), aren't flowering yet.

They are covered in buds alone. So, the males and females are out of sync in our yard this year. Perhaps the male flowers stay open later and their pollen will be around once these females' bloom. I doubt these are wind pollinated - those white petals are trying to attract some kind of pollinator - but I've yet to see any critters on the flowers.

The native Texas persimmon, Diospyros texana, is another dioecious tree that has visually inconspicuous flowers. Tiny they may be, but they are extremely fragrant, and smell a little like honeysuckle. The POs planted a persimmon in our yard that I believe to be a male. It flowers every year but never produces the black, sweet fruit that a female would. In bloom, I can smell this tree from the house.

The nearest female tree that I'm aware of is probably about 1 mile away, planted in the front yard of someone in our hood. I don't know if our pollen makes it that far, but bees (native and European) can roam far and wide. It definitely reminds me that, as a gardener, my yard is part of a larger ecosystem. The plants that we plant here in our yard are interacting with those sprouting up between cracks in the asphalt, growing along our creeks, and most importantly, living in our neighbors' yards (since yards most definitely dominate the landscape).

Without this connection to others of its kind, a plant is simply ornament. Like an ex-pat who doesn't speak Spanish sitting alone in a cafe in Mexico City, a plant out of its context is a lonely being. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, particularly after reading Bringing Nature Home: How Native Plants Sustain Wildlife in Our Gardens, but Douglas Tallamy.

But, I digress.

Here's another dioecious tree native to our area, the southern wax myrtle, Myrica cerifera.

These female flowers are not conspicuous, nor do they have a scent. I've never seen a pollinator on them, and all this leads me to believe these are wind pollinated. These flowers will eventually produce clusters of plump blue-gray berries held tight to the stem if there is a male nearby. Another favorite of the birds.

On a parting note, this is a plant that I believe to be lyreleaf sage (Salvia lyrata), and I bought it because I really wanted a groundcover that would spread around and explode in light blue flowers in spring, timed with the yellow columbine.

Strangely, I've never seen these have blue flowers; they send up flowering stalks but nothing blue ever happens there. They are spreading around, so I know they are producing seeds, and they have a nice leaf. But still, I wonder what's going on with that. Maybe I'm just missing them...

And here's a shot of a stone path, Texas betony (not native to our area, but loved by hummingbirds and humans) blooming in the foreground with the tall perfect yellow columbine going strong at the bend in the road.

Of Giant Silk Moths

My internal struggle was strong. Should the cecropia moth remain caged for the night, where it would be safe? Or, should I set him free to survive in the urban wilds – dodging cars and cats and raccoons?

Ultimately, some might say that I’m not a good butterfly rancher. I just had to let him go.

Last summer, I happily fed Mexican plum leaves to the green toy-like caterpillars until they were as fat and long as a bratwurst. I even had a friend "caterpillar-sit" when I was out of town last May. From three caterpillars, only two survived to spin their tough brown cocoons shrouded with crunchy dead leaves. And these two wintered over in a vintage wooden pet carrier that John found in someone’s garbage pile - quietly resting in a corner of the garage.

There, their internal clocks were synced with the seasonal changes in light and temperature that would help their cells know when it was time to awake.

As caterpillars in the house, they were safe from roving tachinid flies, looking for a fat juicy larvae to support their brood of parasitic larvae. In the garage, they were safe from rodents and birds looking for a midwinter snack.

And then yesterday, 10 months after the caterpillars had disappeared into their silken cocoons, one of them emerged. With damp, weak wings, it squeezed through a hole in the top of its lair. By the time I came home from work, its glorious rusty brown and red wings – spanning at least five inches across – were fanning and pulsing in the warm evening air. Eye spots flashing. He was warming up to fly.

This cecropia’s long feathered antennae clued me in that it was a male. In this species of silk moth (the largest in North America), the females produce a strong pheromone that can attract males from miles away. The males’ antennae are filled with sensors that pick up the scent. And the more surface area on the antennae, the more chance they’ll catch a whiff of the female.

Both male and female cecropia (Hyalophora cecropia) have these feathered antennae, but the males’ are much larger. Another way to distinguish the females from males is that the ladies are plumper. Their abdomens are filled with eggs waiting to be fertilized.

These gorgeous creatures only live as free-flying adults for a few days. They have no mouths, because they don’t eat. Their sole purpose is to mate and find a suitable tree to lay their eggs. They love plums (Prunus), as well as apples (Malus), dogwoods (Cornus) and willow (Salix).

In the end, I just couldn’t keep my moth from doing what he was supposed to do: go forth and multiply. It’s in his destiny to dodge his way though our crazy world and follow the scent of a waiting female. So, I daintily lifted him from the cage - his fuzzy soft legs wrapping around my finger - and let him fly away into the night.

I hope he didn’t get hit by a truck screaming down to Laredo on I-35. Or get seduced by a porch light and find himself stuck in a vortex of light.

In my mind’s eye, he found a mate (or more), and she then deposited her eggs on the Mexican plums now flush with new tender leaves perfect for the small mouths of newly hatched caterpillars. I’ll be keeping an eye out for those, even though chances are low to find them in the wild.

Sadly, cecropias and many of our other large silk moths are rarer now. They’re populations have decreased as a result of attacks from a European fly that was introduced here to combat the highly invasive gypsy moth.

Here’s hoping that my nurturing of this one will lead to more out there in the wild, living their secret, beautiful lives amongst the shadows and the trees. In the meantime, there’s still one cocoon sitting in my cage, waiting for its time to fly.

***

Many thanks to folks at the Austin Butterfly Forum who lent me the caterpillars. If you are looking to see more cecropia, the Wildflower Center always raises herds of them in their butterfly house each year.

Narcs Love Here

I found two more cool painted Crime Stoppers signs in my hood.

The other three are here.

Spring Winter Spring

Last night, I was lounging on the back patio in my flip flops, sipping on a cool glass of cheap vinho verde (Casal Garcia, a favorite for warm weather) as the moon rose through the clouds to the east. The katydids sawed through the air. The crickets chirped.

Tonight, I am cloistered in the study against the cold drippy night covered in two layers of fleece. I attempted to exorcise the cold with a bowl of Spicy XX Chili (not Hot Hot Hot XXX) from the Texas Chili Parlor, but that only lasts so long. What better weather to blog in?

Before settling in with said glass of wine last night, I snapped a few photos around the yard with the help of our now later sunset. (Boo on the crappy late rising sun though. Los Federales need to reconsider this entire Daylight Savings Time experiment, in my opinion.)

On to the photos...

Texas betony is gearing up for the arrival of the hummingbirds. These plants did OK last year, but they seem to have taken hold, and I'm hoping for a bigger show this time round.


The yellow columbine, a native, is beginning to rocket forth with butter yellow blooms.


Up close.


I found some very young caterpillars munching away on this roughleaf dogwood. I'll have to remember to ask my friend Mary what they are.


I was super psyched to find a few heartleaf skullcap transplants at the Sunshine Community Garden plant sale this past weekend. I've been admiring these growing at the Wildflower Center for some time. Good shade ground cover with blue sage-like flowers. Plus, it's a mint, so it'll spread. I also got a tall goldenrod, which I hear may drive me crazy some day, but I'm happy to get things that will fill in the spaces for now...


I just can't quite capture the dainty blue hues on these violets blooming all over the place.


The Scott's sedge, a variety of Carex texenis from Barton Springs Nursery, looks like fireworks in bloom.


Here's one of the March veggie beds. Hidden amongst there are basil and tomato transplants from the Sunshine garden plant sale (a GREAT event every year if you've never been). Also, a new row or two of arugula, spinach still going strong, strawberries, peas and broccoli feeding the bees in the rear.

Grape Ape

This is a mountain laurel outside of my office. Three stories tall. One of the most amazing and beautiful trees I know.

Crossvine in Bloom

The new Crossvine 'Tangerine Dream' is already giving me a show.